


Wait 2

by Prairie_Grass



Series: Wait [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Derek is a creeper, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Fingering, M/M, Reluctant Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Under-negotiated Sexual Acts, set season 2ish, stiles is confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prairie_Grass/pseuds/Prairie_Grass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is deeply confused, late for school, and has <em>hickeys</em>. </p><p>Derek is smug, and happy to offer Stiles a ride. </p><p>The asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait 2

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, here’s the next instalment in my 'thanks y'all for being so nice' shamelessly indulgent fic. Unbeta’d, sorry. I’ve also updated Part 1 because I realised the timelines didn’t make sense. (What happens when you write at 2am! Whoops!)
> 
>  **Warnings:** Once again though I have not tagged this as non-con because I don’t think the characters view it that way, in the real world this is very thoroughly **not** fully consented sex. So please be careful if non-explicit, coerced or reluctant consent are triggers for you.

Stiles was having one of those mornings which in retrospect could be dubbed ‘a comedy of errors’ but at the time just felt like everything was going to shit.

His car wouldn’t start, his Dad had already left for work, Scott was still biking to school, and Stiles had been about to bolt for the bus when he’d realised he’d left his keys inside and just as he’d turned around to go back for them – the door had clicked shut behind him. So now he was locked outside, no car, missed bus, no time to bike, and no hope at all of getting to school before first period.

And he had _hickeys_.

Okay, that wasn’t technically on his list of shitty things about his morning, it was just… he wasn’t really sure how he’d somehow gone from ‘no prospects whatsoever’ guy, to, ‘that many hickeys are not cute’ guy in a single day.

He was wearing a _scarf_ for fuck’s sake.

Dudes did not wear scarves in Beacon Hills unless they were, 1) hiding hickeys, 2) trying to be particularly fabulous, or 3) Isaac. He was pretty sure he was fooling absolutely zero percent of the population as to which of those categories he fell into.

He’d have to instigate a no-marks above the neckline policy with Derek next time.

…If there was going to _be_ a next time. He and Derek hadn’t exactly _talked_ since the ‘kitchen incident’ of a few days prior. Maybe it was just an aberration. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure of the etiquette following a spontaneous kitchen handjob (followed by public clinginess). Maybe the guy just had to get it out of his system and he was going to go back to ignoring Stiles apart from occasional threats. Stiles was… probably okay with that. The whole thing had been pretty confusing. Sex was exciting but it wasn’t like they even really knew each other.

Stiles made a face. _When exactly did I become the guy who needed flowers and romance before someone got to third base?_

His thoughts were broken by the sound of a horn. He looked up and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the Camaro sitting in front of his house.

Stiles edged closer to the car while Derek slid the window down. “Um… Hey... Derek. What are you doing here?” he said warily.

“You need a lift, right?” Derek said, as if Stiles was being particularly obtuse.

“How do you know that?”

“They have these things called cell phones these days, Stiles”

Stiles frowned down at this own phone. “I didn’t text you, did I?”

Derek made an exasperated noise. “No. Scott texted to say you might need a ride.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that,” Stiles said quickly.

“I know. Although I don’t know why you didn’t just text me yourself.”

“Why would I?”

Both of Derek’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, I can’t possibly think of a reason why. You are such a shithead, Stiles.”

“Hey!”

Okay, sometimes that descriptor did apply to him, but he wasn’t sure it did in this situation.

“Are you going to get in or not? You’re going to be late. Aren’t you and Scott on probation for missing so many classes?”

Stiles swore and scrambled to get into the car. He’d barely buckled in before Derek was shooting off from the curb with the kind of gut-shifting stylishness you could only achieve in a sports car.

“We’ll be later if you get pulled over,” Stiles said. Pretty much the worst thing he could think of right now was having to explain to his Dad why Derek Hale, murder-suspect, (because of Stiles’ and Scott’s evidence. Twice,) was taking him to school.

“I won’t speed with you in the car,” Derek said mildly.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Stiles grumbled softly, looking out the window.

“It means it’s my job to take care of you,” Derek said.

Stiles looked over at him. “Because you’re the Alpha?”

Derek gave him a smug smile. “Partly.”

Derek didn’t seem inclined to add anything further, so Stiles went back to glaring out the window.

Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis, so it didn’t take much longer before they were pulling in to the school parking lot, the other kids all streaming past Derek’s car and up into the main building. Stiles chewed on his lip, not really sure why he wasn’t getting out of the car.

“I really don’t get you sometimes, Derek,” Stiles said.

Derek smirked and leaned into Stiles’ space, cupping Stiles’ jaw and lifting him into a full, deep kiss, his tongue slipping into Stiles’ mouth in a way that had tingles shooting all the way up and down Stiles’ body.

“You will,” Derek said, before he urged Stiles up out of the car.

Stiles, dazed, got out. Derek leant over before he shut the door to say, “Nice scarf, by the way.”

Stiles just stood there in the parking lot, his lips still wet and buzzing as Derek drove away.

 _What the hell was_ that?

 

  
Stiles spent the whole day vacillating between ‘kissing!’ and ‘kissing?’ He zoned out halfway through English thinking about soft press of Derek’s lips against his, at the crinkly-soft texture of his beard. It was all so _different_ to how he’d imagined that sort of thing to feel.

His friends had been absolutely no help whatsoever. Isaac has taken one look at his scarf and started laughing hysterically, (which Stiles thought was both mean and ridiculously hypocritical), Scott had elbowed Isaac and just given Stiles a thumbs up, Erica had made a ‘bowchikawowwow’ noise as if it was still the 90s, and Boyd and Jackson had just ignored the whole process – although possibly for different reasons.

All of that had left Stiles very confused and flustered, and by the end of the day he was desperately looking forward to going home and having some time to himself to figure out exactly how he felt about getting macked on by the local Alpha.

“You made plans with Isaac?” Stiles asked Scott incredulously. “I thought we were going to do our ritual ‘neither of us has a car’ walk home of shame?” They always walked home together when neither of them had a functioning ride.

“I’m sorry, man,” Scott shrugged. “We just assumed Derek would be giving you a lift.”

“Why would anyone assume that!?” Stiles cried, waving his hands for emphasis. One sneaky handjob in the kitchen didn’t mean they’d made undying vows of commitment or anything.

“Well he obviously did,” Jackson sniped as he passed by.

Stiles must have looked as confused as he felt, because Scott tipped his chin in the direction behind Stiles. Stiles turned and there, looking cool as you please, leather-jacket included and leaning against his sports car in the middle of the parking lot as if it didn’t make him look like a total sexual predator – was Derek Hale.

“Ugh,” Stiles said.

Scott clapped him on the shoulder and headed off in Isaac’s direction. “Have fun dude, I’ll catch you later.”

Fun? Since when was hanging out with Derek _fun_?

Stiles’ feet moved in the wolf’s direction almost of their own accord. “You realise you look like a total creeper hanging out like that,” he said once he was close enough. “You’re too old to be dating anyone here and way too young to be anyone’s parent.”

Derek tucked his fingers in through Stiles’ belt-loops and pulled him in. “Maybe I like being a creeper,” he said.

Stiles squeaked and smacked Derek’s hands away. “Not here!” he hissed, looking around nervously.

Derek quirked his eyebrow. “What if I want them all to know you’re mine?”

Stiles felt his face flush and his cock throb in his pants. Derek looked pleased with himself.

“What if you want to get arrested, more like,” Stiles snapped.

Derek gave him an indulgent smile. “It’s nice to know you care,” he said, shifting to hold the car door open. “I guess we’ll just have to go somewhere less exposed.”

Stiles felt like his cheeks might explode from heat. Derek was making him feel like a weird mix of carefree teenager and prudish grandmother. “You mean you’ll have to take me home with absolutely no deviations, mister,” he said as he got in.

Derek rounded the car and slid into his seat. He reached over and ran his thumb along Stiles’ bottom lip. “Whatever you say, Stiles.”

Stiles groaned and turned away, sliding lower into his seat to relieve the pressure of his aching dick in his pants. “Douchenozzle,” Stiles muttered.

Derek just laughed and started the car.

 

It didn’t take long for Derek to drive Stiles home, and Stiles leapt out of the car practically as soon as it touched the curb, grateful that his Dad had dropped off his keys in his lunch break.

“Thanks for the ride,” Stiles called back, already sliding his key into the door. The noise of it distracting him from the fact that the Camaro’s engine had turned off.

“When does your Dad get home?” Derek’s voice came from at Stiles’ shoulder, and he yelped in surprise.

“In um, about an hour?” Stiles said, looking back at Derek, unmoving.

Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles’ where he was hesitating with the key in the lock, twisted and pushed the door open, shuffling Stiles in and following him inside. “Good,” Derek said, closing the door behind them.

“Good?” Stiles squeaked.

Derek smirked and tugged Stiles towards the couch. “Yes, good.” He leant in until his mouth was just a breath away from Stiles’. “I’ve been thinking about getting my mouth on your dick all day.”

Stiles’ whine was swallowed up by Derek’s kiss, but his cock certainly relayed the message loud and clear of what it thought about that.

Derek chuckled into their kiss and rutted his own dick up against Stiles’ thigh. Damn he was _big_. Stiles had somehow either forgotten or missed that in the endorphin rush of an unexpected handjob the other day. Stiles hoped Derek didn’t expect Stiles to _do_ anything with that just now. It would probably result in injury.

Derek slid his hands under Stiles’ shirts and scratched lightly across the bare skin of Stiles’ belly. Stiles sucked in air at the unexpectedly sharp sensation.

“What do you say, Stiles?” Derek said, “Can I blow you? Do you want to fuck my face?”

“Fuuuuuck,” Stiles groaned. He was pretty sure he’d actually planned to spend the night alone, but right now a hot mouth on his dick was an awfully tempting offer.

Derek laughed and gently dumped Stiles backwards onto the couch. He was disorientated for a moment and Derek took the opportunity to quickly divest him of his shirts and jeans. Other than Stiles’ boxers, Derek left his scarf for last, pulling off his own henley and unbuttoning his jeans before he loomed over Stiles, intense hazelly-blue eyes meeting golden-brown even as he slowly pulled the scarf away from Stiles’ neck. Stiles’ dick throbbed in his boxers, and he felt overheated and exposed as Derek discarded the fabric and stared down at the fading marks he had left the other night.

Derek reached out and trailed his fingers all the way up Stiles’ chest until he reached the bruises. He spread his fingers until each fingertip was resting on a different spot.

“I want to put my marks over every inch of you,” Derek said.

Stiles shivered. “That sounds rather time consuming,” he said hoarsely.

Derek smirked. “Some things are worth a little effort.”

Stiles couldn’t help it, his head tipped back, just a fraction, but it was enough to make Derek let out a rumble of approval.

Wait, no, the plan was _not_ to be encouraging. “You sound like a freaking psychopath, wanting me covered in bruises you gave me,” Stiles tried, but he was somewhat foiled by his cock jerking and leaking a few drips of precome into his shorts.

Derek’s gaze flared with heat. “Seems like you do, too,” he said. Stiles honestly didn’t know how to respond to that. Derek pressed a single biting kiss to Stiles’ lips. “But that’s not for today.”

Stiles was going to say, ‘And not any day!’ but then his boxers got pulled down and there was a hot mouth around the tip of his dick.

What came out was more of an ‘Annngh!’

Derek just slid down deeper and Stiles made another garbled noise, fisted his hand in Derek’s hair, not sure if he wanted to pull the other man off or shove him further down. Getting blown was like… _fuck_... it was just as good, maybe better than what he’d ever hoped it would be. It was all tight and hot and wet and his hips kicked up into Derek’s mouth. Derek choked a little and Stiles whipped his hand away from his head. “Sorry!”

Derek lifted his mouth off Stiles’ dick, but ran kisses down the side. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice already rougher than usual. “I want you to.” He looked up and made eye contact with Stiles as he went to put his mouth back over Stiles. “I want you to fuck your cock into my throat.”

Stiles felt like his brain was shorting out, but he had just enough coherence to say, (probably belatedly), “I really don’t think we should be doing this in my living room.”

Derek just licked the head of Stiles’ cock like it was a lollipop. “Relax,” he said, “I’ll hear it before your Dad comes home.

Stiles groaned, “That’s not what I–” he cut off as Derek slid all the way down his cock until his lips were pressed against Stiles’ belly, Stiles’ cock caught in the hot clutch of his throat. Derek took Stiles’ hand and put it back on his head, before starting to slide up and down in a swift rhythm. Stiles’ hand tightened automatically in Derek’s hair. A few sucks and Derek pulled up to mouth at Stiles’ head again, and Stiles yanked Derek back down before he even thought about it, his hips jerking back up into that tight heat. He almost apologised again but then Derek groaned, his own hips humping against the couch and his eyes closing. Stiles bit at his own lip, then pulled Derek up slowly by his hair, before pushing him back down, shoving his cock back inside. Derek looked up at him, his eyes burning red and _fuck_ if that wasn’t the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen; a pure predator crouched over him and letting Stiles take his own pleasure, when any moment he could devour Stiles whole.

Derek increased the suction on Stiles’ cock, and snaked one hand up to Stiles’ open mouth, slipping two fingers in boldly.

Stiles sucked on the fingers automatically, licking the the salty taste from them until they were just heavy and warm and thick on his tongue. He could feel himself throb in Derek’s mouth. Derek, still making eye contact, pulled the fingers out and Stiles made a petulant little noise, already missing the feel of them. Derek’s eyes flashed and he brought his fingers down to the tight clutch of Stiles’ hole, just rubbing around the rim. Stiles felt his eyes widen. Blowjobs were one thing, but he did not want to get fucked for the first time on his couch with his Dad about to walk in any minute.

“Derek!”

Derek pulled up, his lips rubbing against Stiles’ cock as he said, “It’s okay, I won’t yet.” Then he slid back down at the same time as he fucked one of his fingers into Stiles’ ass.

Stiles hissed, his eyes snapping shut. His hips stopped their movements into Derek’s mouth, but Derek just resumed bobbing up and down at the same time as he gently moved his finger in and out of Stiles’ hole.

It was a disorientating sensation. A mix of burning discomfort at the same time as mind-melting suction. Half of Stiles’ brain wanted to him to pull away and the other wanted to just shove Derek down on his dick and keep him there forever. Stiles started to let out helpless little high pitched noises, the sounds slipping out of his throat before he could stop them. Seesawing between feelings pulsing backwards and forwards through his body, he whimpered until the sensations all coalesced into a white light of heat and he exploded, shooting down Derek’s throat. Derek moaned, his own hips twitching as he pulled up and messily lapped the last few spurts from Stiles’ tip. Stiles bit his lip, wincing at the stab of lust that sent through him.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek growled, sitting up so he could look at where his finger was still riding in and out of Stiles’ ass. Derek was still hard and confined within his briefs, and he pulled his dick out with his spare hand, then tipped Stiles’ legs back towards his chest, pulled his fingers out and started to jack himself off, his hand moving eagerly on his dick, eyes fixed on Stiles’ hole. “Fuck you look gorgeous like this. All spread out for me.”

Stiles was still spinning with the come-down from his own brain-melting orgasm and he didn’t really know how to respond to that. He did let out a squeak when Derek pressed his cockhead up against Stiles’ rim.

“It’s okay,” Derek panted, mouthing at Stiles’ inner knee, his hand still jerking his own cock rapidly. “It’s okay.” He swore, pressing in a bit deeper, not quite breaching Stiles as he came, his jizz squirting all over Stiles’ hole and just up inside him.

“Are you serious?” Stiles complained, dropping his head back against the couch. “You filthy motherfucker.”

Derek just made satisfied little noises, and after he was done twitching with aftershocks he started pushing his finger up into Stiles again and again. Stiles tipped his head up to glare at him. “Are you seriously pushing your come into my ass right now?”

Derek pressed his finger in a couple more times and then leant in to give Stiles a thorough kiss before pulling Stiles’ boxers back up over his spent dick. “Gotta get as much in as possible,” he said.

Stiles honestly had no idea what to say to that.

Derek pushed himself up off the couch and found Stiles’ clothes. Stiles let Derek gently pull him back into his jeans and t-shirt, too dazed to object. Derek then threw open a window, and came over to give Stiles another, deep kiss, which made his cock twitch painfully in his pants.

“What?” Stiles croaked, confused.

“Your Dad is almost here,” Derek said. He reached down and rubbed Stiles’ belly. “Keep it in as long as you can, okay?”

Stiles just gaped.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Derek said, and with a final, quick kiss, headed out the door, his car starting and rumbling out of range just as the Sheriff's patrol car pulled into the drive.

Stiles was still gaping when his father entered. Luckily, the Sheriff didn’t seem surprised to find his son dazed and sprawled out on the couch.

“Hi Son, did you get a ride home?”

Stiles struggled upright, hiding his wince when he felt the warm wetness in his pants. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I got a lift from um, a friend... A friend on the lacrosse team. Who goes to high school. With me!”

The Sheriff just raised his eyebrow. “Well… good. I’ve asked the lads down at the garage to come pick up the Jeep tomorrow and take it into the shop. Do you need me to take you in tomorrow? It’d have to be early.”

“I uh… I think I have something lined up.”

“Great.”

Stiles started to get up but the Sheriff put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you have homework? I don’t have any work tonight and I thought we could order in and have a guys-night for once.”

Stiles considered lying and saying he had a test to study for, but it really had been months since he and his dad had got to spend time together. (Turns out having frequent murders in a tiny town creates a lot of paperwork).

“That sounds great, Dad.”

The Sheriff’s face creased into a smile and he went to get the phone.

“No pizza!” Stiles called.

“Pizza with vegetables?”

“Tomato doesn’t count as a vegetable!”

He could hear the Sheriff’s grumbling from the kitchen. He just sat there, not sure if he should get up and bolt for the bathroom or not. Then his Dad came back in, and it was too late. He dropped down on the couch and threw an arm over Stiles’ shoulder. “What should we watch?” he asked. “No _Hoarders_.”

Stiles laughed shakily, turned on the TV and tried to school his face into something that resembled ‘I totally don’t have my pants full of an older werewolf’s come!’

He shifted, and felt it squish between his thighs, a drop sliding down his leg. His face burned, but luckily his Dad was absorbed in the television already.

About every five minutes that evening, he thought that he should excuse himself to go and clean up, but every time – it seemed like he’d rather just stay where he was.

All this stuff with Derek was clearly messing with his head.

In the morning Derek was picking him up for school. Honestly, at this point he would be surprised if he arrived unscathed. Whether that was a good thing or not… he might have to wait to figure out.

 --

 

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